The Silver Linings Playbook -Not the end
by Andrea.Cherrypie
Summary: My apologies, this fanfic follows the book rather than the movie, but it's posted here because I was unable to classify it into the books category as so far there isn't one. Pat and Tiffany, crazy love. If the SLP book left you with an emptiness feeling, this is the right fanfic for you.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note: Hello there dear readers. This is the first fanfic that I've actually had the guts to upload because it sucks less than the others.**

**As you can guess it's based on Silver Linings Playbook, but as it says on the synopsis it follows the book rather than the movie. However there are a few details that I've kept from the movie simply because I couldn't remember how it was plotted on the book. These details include the colour of Tiffany's eyes, -which I described as green because I pictured Jennifer Lawrence when I read the book- and the fact that Pat sleeps in the attic, which I am sure only happens in the movie.**

**Written from Pat's perspective I hope I have made justice to Matthew Quick's way of writing and to Pat's way of speaking. With rhythm and a little craziness. However one last thing I would like to point out is the fact that English is my second language and I can't promise everything will be perfect. **

**Nonetheless, enjoy.**

* * *

THE FIRST GENUINE  
SMILE I HAVE SEEN ON HER  
SINCE A VERY LONG TIME.

_February, 7, 2007._

When we arrive home I pull Tiffany closer to me and knock on my parent's door. Mom opens and her face immediately turns toward Tiffany, her eyes lock on our interlaced fingers. I know what Mom must be thinking because she knows that I don't like to be touched by anyone except Nikki; but she doesn't know that that was in the past when I was living my own movie, and that now I am no longer living one because my old movie finished and now I am simply trying to live life as it happens. Mom grins and covers her mouth with the hand that is not holding the door open and I know she is about to say something because that is the face she pulls when she's about to make a comment on how glad she is about something, but I cut her off before she can say anything because that would embarrass both Tiffany and me, and I don't want that after the hard time I had trying to convince her to come home.

"Can we come in? It's freezing out here." I say.

Mother opens the door completely and lets us in without saying anything. I catch her eye and I shake my head slightly to let her know that I know what she is thinking but would prefer she didn't said anything, and she nods back at me.

"Do you want to have something to drink, Tiffany?" Mom asks her. Tiffany replies that she is fine thank you very much, but Mom insists.

"Are you sure? I have hot chocolate in the kitchen, it's already prepared. It will warm you up with this weather outside"

"I'm fine" Tiffany replies again, this time a little less politely.

"I'll have one" I tell her instead because I really want hot chocolate. Mom disappears into the kitchen and that's when I notice Tiffany is trembling.

"You're shaking" I whisper into her ear.

"I'm fine" she repeats. I first put my skywatcher's cloud chart onto the counter and then take off my jacket and put it around her shoulders.  
I can hear my dad in the living room watching TV –probably some football match- so I decide it's best if I don't take Tiffany in there.

"Wanna come and see my gym?" I ask her. When she doesn't reply I grab her hand and take her to the basement. She looks around indifferently and still says nothing.  
I don't understand why she is behaving this way so I sort of just start moving around until I decide I'm going to give Tiffany a little tour around my humble gym.

"This is the Stomach Master 600, I was dreaming about it for months when I was at the bad place and I was really happy when I saw that Mom had bought it for me. It's great, you wanna try?" I tell her. She shakes her head and looks away.

"Okay, so this is the weight bench and I almost drive Mom crazy with when I was asking for it," I continue with my tour, because I really don't know what else to do. "She had promised me she would buy it so many times but every time I asked about it she would change the subject and that's how I knew that she still hadn't got it yet because—"

"Earlier in the field, when you asked me if I wanted to come to your house because it was really cold out there, you know why I was so reluctant to come?" Tiffany interrupts me.

It takes me a few seconds to process the information because I didn't expect Tiffany to say anything. I recall what happened in the field and remember seeing Tiffany turn her head when I mentioned about coming to my house, and then saying that it was best if she went home because her parents would be worried.

"Your family still hasn't forgiven me for lying to you, Pat. That's why. Your mom told me herself not long ago. Your brother is never going to forgive me, and probably neither is your dad or your therapist or my sister's husband or any of your football friends because everybody fucking hates me and I think it's best if I just stay the fuck away from them before I can upset them more and—"

"Hey," I say. I walk over to her, grab both her hands and stare directly into her deep green eyes.

Before my old movie ended this would have been very awkward for me, because I'm not used to looking directly into any other women's eyes apart from Nikki's, but now the gesture comes naturally and I don't feel awkward at all holding both of Tiffany's hands. What's more, it fills my face with warmth, and _that's_ what's awkward.

"Listen," I say. "My brother doesn't hate you. Neither does my therapist and I'm sure not even my father. I don't know what Mom has told you because I am not her girlfriend and she doesn't talk like that to me, but I can tell you that whatever she said she didn't mean it, and that she has forgiven you already because I have seen the look she had on her face just now. And if Mom has forgiven you then Jake has most likely has forgiven you too and dad will eventually follow."

"Pat you don't know the things they said to me, you don't know how they made me feel and what they made me believe, you don't—" Tiffany says before she starts crying again.

This time I know what to do. This time I don't pull away because I have learnt that when Tiffany cries it's because she's seriously hurt and just needs someone to tell her that everything will be alright. So I take her in my arms and that's exactly what I do.

"Shh," I say. My voice is almost inaudible. "It's okay Tiff, don't blame yourself any longer. It's not worth it. That is in the past and belongs to the old movie, remember? And I already rolled the credits of it so there is no use living in there now." I realize I am stroking her hair as I speak, but I keep doing that because it feels so nice to touch her silky black hair.

Tiffany holds me tighter and rests her head on my right shoulder as she continues crying.

"No one in my family hates you, okay? They hate Nikki. As far as I know you don't have a restraining order against me, right?"

It feels weird admitting to Tiffany that my family hates Nikki, and it feels even weirder to know that I don't hold it against them any more but I guess that's what happens when a movie ends: you don't have the feelings that you did before, because the movie is already over and you know how it ends so you lose all passion.

Tiffany stops crying for a moment, looks up at me, and smiles. The first genuine smile I have seen on her since a very long time. But tears quickly cover her face again and before I know it I am holding her body against mine. Knowing that she allows me to do this feels good.

Suddenly somewhere between the hot tears and the hand holding and hair strokes someone shouts from upstairs and Tiffany pulls away.

Mom is calling us to have our hot chocolates –because I know that she probably has prepared Tiffany's as well as mine even though Tiffany said she didn't want one— so Tiffany cleans her face with her sleeve trying to remove all evidence of her crying, and takes a deep breath before she looks into my eyes. I wink at her, take her hand and go upstairs.  
Mom is waiting for us in the Kitchen. Just as I suspected there are two steamy mugs of hot chocolate waiting for us at the kitchen table, alongside some home made cookies and tarts.

"Thank you" Tiffany says when she sees that there is a mug for her. We sit down and drink our chocolate while my mother watches.

"Mom what is dad doing?" I ask.

"He's watching football" She answers. All Mom does is smile and she is embarrassing me so I say "Mom you don't need to smile so much" and she stands up and says "I'll leave you two alone" and then leaves the kitchen.

Tiffany actually finishes her chocolate quicker than me, which makes me think that she wanted to have one on the first place and also how glad I am that Mom actually served a mug for her. When I finish I copy her and stare out of the window. It is actually heavily snowing now so I worry that Tiffany will have a rough time getting home because I know that Mom won't drive in the snowstorm and I can't drive either because I am on medication and it would be illegal for me. So I think about Tiffany getting home whilst she plays with her empty mug and eats a ginger biscuit. And then this idea comes into my mind.

"You can stay here for the night if you want." I say. Tiffany looks at me; clearly I have surprised her with my question. "It's crazy out there and something bad could happen to you and Mom hates driving in the middle of a snowstorm and I can't drive 'cause I'm on meds and I don't want anything bad to happen to you. So, do you want to?" I ask again because, it sounds strange, but I really want her to stay. She stares at me for at least two minutes until she speaks again.

"Where would I sleep?" she asks. I am sort of surprised because I was waiting something like 'that would be very nice thank you' or 'I would love to stay here' yet she asks me where will she sleep tonight.

"In my bed of course" I say. Where else did she think she would be sleeping?

"In your bedroom?"

"Yeah."

"In the attic?"

"Yeah."

She looks at me for a moment with a thoughtful face.

"Where would _you_ sleep?" She asks.

" I've got a sleeping bag."

" You've got a sleeping bag?"

"Yeah I do."

"Why do you have a sleeping bag?"

I hesitate for a moment before answering. I'm not too sure of how she is going to react to Nikki's name being mentioned again.

"To sweat."

This time she looks at me doubtfully. I sigh and tell her the whole story.

"Nikki likes a man with a developed upper body," I repeat the exact words I told Mom what seems like ages ago. "I used to sleep in the sleeping bag to sweat more at night. Sweating makes you lose weight which leads to having a fit body which leads to having a better chance of getting Nikki back."

Tiffany clenches her hands into fists and goes back to looking out of the window. I know I have upset her by mentioning Nikki's name and I don't like that because I don't want to upset Tiffany, but I don't know what else to say so I just stay quiet.  
After a while Tiffany just stands up and walks towards the doorway. I am confused because I didn't expect her to respond like this so it takes me a couple of seconds to react but soon I am on my feet making my way towards her.

"Tiffany!" I say a little too loudly. "Tiffany. Hey Tiffany wait, don't go."

She stops right in front of the front door.

"What the fuck do you want?"

"Why are you leaving?"

"Well obviously you don't want me here; you just want your whore of an ex-wife back so I think it's best if I go now." She snaps. Normally, when people insult Nikki I insult them back, but oddly I don't get irritated by Tiffany's comment or feel the need to snap back any more.

"Who says I want my ex-wife back?" I ask. I am confused.

"You just clearly pointed that out just there, no? '_which means to lose weight which means having a better chance at getting Nikki back'" _she mimics me. "If you want your Nikki back I'll be leaving now before I get more of this bullshit." She takes the door handle and opens the door. A cold breeze enters the house.

"Tiffany!" I grab her wrist a little too brusquely. "I didn't mean that, I'm sorry I didn't make myself clear. I don't want Nikki back, that's old movie, that's old movie! You asked why I have a sleeping bag and I told you: to lose weight so that I could get Nikki back, but that was before. Old movie, okay? I don't use my sleeping bag anymore, I don't need to, but I can use it today if you want to stay over because I will give you my bed if you do stay."

When she doesn't answer I take her hand off the handle and close the door. I am shivering.

"It's cold out there." I say.

" I'm going home." She says.

"What?" I am surprised because I thought she would stay. It's really icy cold outside.

" I'm going home Pat, I don't have any spare wear and I could be stuck in here forever"

"I'll walk you home." I say.

My fingers are numb when we arrive at Tiffany's house. I figure hers must be the same but I don't know that because I am not holding her hand. Yet she hasn't complained not even once since we left my house. As soon as we reach her doorway she hurries up her pace and walks to the entrance. I want to shout out her name but I don't know what's with her today so I just stay silent. I watch as she pulls out the key from her bag and then opens the door. I think she is going to leave without saying goodbye when she suddenly turns around and looks at me from over her shoulder. Her face has the same look it had around the first months of meeting Tiffany, until later when told me she was scouting me. So I think she is scouting me again because she has that same look. After some thirty seconds or so she simply turns away, enters the house and closes the door behind her, without a goodbye or anything. It doesn't annoy me, I am used to this from the many times she has done it before, but it confuses me because I was expecting her to react a bit more warmly as it was just earlier today when she told me she needed me. I stand paralysed for some good two minutes before I make my way back home. I think about how weird women sometimes are and how I wish Tiffany had stayed in my house and how cold I am and just how difficult and messed up everything is and I want more hot chocolate and want to get home now.

Because it's cold.  
I am cold.  
I want to be home.  
I want hot chocolate.  
I have upset her.  
It's cold.  
The snow.  
Hot chocolate.  
I want to hug her.  
My fingers are numb.  
I want hot chocolate.  
I want her with me.  
It's cold.  
I can barely move.  
Hot steamy chocolate.  
The snow.  
I want her.  
It's cold.  
The snow.  
My fingers.  
I want her  
It's cold.  
The snow.  
My fingers.  
Tiffany.  
Chocolate  
It's cold.  
Tiffany.  
The snow.  
It's cold.  
Tiffany.  
Tiffany.  
I need her.

It hits me unexpectedly. I don't want hot chocolate. I don't want to be home. I don't want to be warm. Not as long as I'm alone. I want Tiffany. I _need_ Tiffany. I don't _think_ I need her. I _know_ I need her. I want to be with her, I want to hold her in my arms, I want to caress her cheek and leave her face free of tears. I want to stroke her hair again because she allows me to do this and it feels nice. I want _her_.  
I can hardly move my fingers as I open my house door. I go inside and close the door behind me. When I turn I see Mom looking at me.

"Where's Tiffany?" she asks me.

"I walked her home."

"In this weather? And where is your jacket? Why aren't you wearing one?"

"I gave it to Tiffany because she didn't have one and she was shivering"

"Why didn't you take another one?" she raises her voice. "You're going to catch something, like some sort of cold or weird virus! Jesus Pat, don't do that especially in this weather!"

"It's okay Mom, I'm fine." I insist.

"Come let me have a look at you, I'll prepare more hot chocolate. You need it now."

"Mom, I fine." I repeat. It is true that I feel a bit dizzy and I've probably caught a cold like Mom says, but I also feel empty and definitely not in the mood for hot chocolate. I just want to lie on my bed under the covers and put my mind at rest because I need to digest everything that's happened today. It stills feels a bit surreal. Mom looks at me worryingly but I don't feel like discussing anything with her either, so I simply turn and go up the stairs directly into my room.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note: Hey guys, so for all of you who have not read the book I will briefly give you a summary of how things are right now in Pat's life.**

** Tiffany wrote a lot of letters to Pat pretending to be Nikki but eventually confessed. Jake (Pat's bro) is married to Caitlin and currently hates Tiffany for lying to Pat. Pat was attacked on the streets (potentially for swearing to God) and broke his leg. Nikki remarried and now lives in Maryland with her husband Phillip (the guy you saw Pat beat up in the movie) and their kids. Now this all is really brief but I hope will help you understand this chapter and maybe the last one.**

** I know I should have posted this before but honestly I didn't expect anyone to read this so I didn't bother.**  
** Thank you so much for all the reviews!**

**Oh, and btw, Kenny G is the saxophonist that composed the famous Pat wedding song.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

HOW GOOD  
AND HOW RIGHT  
THIS FEELS.

_February 10, 2007_

The next couple of days are a blur. I don't feel the need of waking up so early in the morning to do some weight lifting, but I do keep my running routine and so does Tiffany. We run every morning like we used to: none of us saying a word. But since my leg is weakened from the accident we only run five miles instead of the ten we used to run before. She's okay with it, running only five miles. She doesn't question me or complain about the reduced amount of miles. She simply goes along with it, meeting me every morning in front of my house and running by my side the whole way. It's not until we had ran a couple of miles the first day when I realised how much I like this, running with Tiffany, how much I've missed it and how much I don't ever want it to end. Because I don't want Tiffany to leave me nor I want to leave her either. And now that I know I need her it just adds one more thing to the list of reasons why I should never stop running with her, even if it's just for five miles. So I still wake up at six am and run, but now when I run I have this weird urges that make me want to take Tiffany into my arms and kiss her forehead or put my arm around her like I did when we were both on the field or something of the sort.

The third day we run I see the jacket I lent to Tiffany on the floor in front of my house door. I pick it up, put it on and run with it. I am no longer wearing a garbage bag. Tiffany meets me when I run by her house and then we both run our usual five miles. But this time when we're almost finished I decide I want to go to Knight's Park and Tiffany follows me. I lead her deeper into the park and sit down on a bench near the big fountain where little kids usually play in the summer when it's hot. It is empty now. Tiffany sits next to me and we both stare at the fountain without saying a word.

After some ten minutes I start to feel uncomfortable. Something is bugging me though I do not know what. First I think it's the cold and that I should probably head home, but when I rub my hands together I notice that these are not cold at all. Then I think it's because I am restless and just need to stand up and return to running again, but when I actually decide to stand up, I realise that I don't want to keep on running. I've run enough for today. So I shift position over and over again not knowing what to do to shake off this uneasy feeling of emptiness. It is the same feeling I had on Sunday evening when I came back from walking Tiffany home. The same feeling that stayed with me all throughout the night and the one I still woke to this morning. I am looking at my hands when abruptly these close on themselves as if holding onto something invisible. I look at Tiffany, she is staring at the grass, and then I get this weird impulse of putting my arms around her, just to hold her and tell her that everything will be alright even though I do not know myself what is everything and if it will be alright or not. I just know I need to hold Tiffany like I held her in my basement and on the soccer field.

I am having an internal fight on whether I should take Tiffany in my arms or not when all of a sudden she is looking at me intensely. She says nothing but I know what she is thinking so I stretch my arm and before I know it she is in my arms with her face buried in my chest and her arms tightly tied around my torso. I put both my arms around her body and kiss her scalp a couple of times. And then I think of how good and how right this feels. It is bizarre but slowly I am becoming so much more detached of Nikki and now the woman my arms crave is not longer my ex wife.

It is Tiffany.

However, just when I think that we will be like this for at least one hour, Tiffany stands up and runs back to the main road.

"Hey! Tiffany!" I shout. Rapidly I am on my feet running after her but she already has a head start over me so as much as I try I cannot catch up on her.

I follow her from a distance and once we're back on the neighbourhood see how she runs straight back to her house and then closes the door behind her. I slowly walk up to her entrance and bang the door a couple of times at the same time as I shout out her name loud enough for the whole neighbourhood to hear. But despite all my efforts Tiffany's door remains shut.

"What's your goddamn problem!?" I say as I bang my fist against her door one last time before finally giving in.

I am angry at Tiffany for abandoning me like this and for saying that she needs me and then making a demonstration of how much she doesn't This is fucked up. I need some time for myself; I need to sort out my feelings and to come to terms with my emotions towards Tiffany. So initiate the run towards my house without looking back not even once.

In the cloud room I have chosen the brown seat because I am not feeling as depressed as I have before, but the more I think about what happened between Tiffany and me the more I think I should have chosen the black couch instead. Ever since she so mysteriously disappeared on Wednesday she hasn't showed up to our running routine and I haven't seen her around nor was she with Veronica when I stopped by her house to say hi to my best friend Ronnie.

"Is everything alright, Pat? You seem distant" Cliff asks me with his Indian accent.

"I don't know" I reply, with all honesty.

"Tell me what is happening."

"I can't doc" I say.

"You know better than to call me doc. But I can see that something bad has happened because you don't normally address me as your doctor. Tell me Pat. I am listening."

"I can't, Cliff." I repeat, using his name this time.

"Why not?" He asks.

"Because I don't know what's happening."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know what's happening, Cliff. Everything is fucked up and I cannot longer make sense of it."

"Your mother has told me you have been seeing Tiffany. Is this what you probably are confused about?"

"Well…" I think for a moment before speaking. I don't know if Cliff's opinion will still be biased or not, but I decide to give it a shot. "Yes. I don't know what's happening between us."

"Are you still in love with Nikki?"

His question takes me for surprise. I actually take a few seconds before answering. I was not expecting this let alone from Cliff.

"No… I think." I reply.

"You think?"

"I mean, no." I quickly amend my response. "I am not in love with her any more. I am sure. That's old movie."

"Old movie? Please, explain." Cliff sits back on the black couch and looks at me expectantly. I remember I haven't told anyone but Tiffany about the difference between old movie and new movie, so I explain to Cliff. When I finish I notice his face has not changed.

"So, let me get this straight. The simple sight of a happy Nikki with her new husband and their children makes you… happy. Am I right? And that was enough for you to move on and roll the credits of your old so-called movie. Correct?" He asks me.

"Yes." I reply.

"You do know what you did there is illegal, right? And is enough evidence for me to increase your medication dose. Am I wrong?"

"No Cliff, you are not."

"But you seem very relaxed about it."

I sigh. "I knew it was dangerous and illegal, but I don't regret it because if I hadn't gone to see her I would not have been able to move on and start living my new life, like I am now."

"If you had not gone to see her you wouldn't have realised that you don't love her any more." Cliff says, not as a question but as a statement.

I hesitate before answering but finally reply "Yes. You are right." Some uncomfortable minutes pass in which Cliff looks at me with a piercing look and says nothing and does nothing else apart from to look at me.

At last I cannot stand it any more and ask him "You won't increase my medication dose, right Cliff?" and he replies "No, I won't." And with that he stops looking at me and focuses his vision on his hands.

"Tell me about Tiffany then. What is it that's bothering you." He says, casually. I feel so much more relaxed now knowing that whatever happens my meds won't change so I open up entirely to Cliff.

"She's acting weird, Cliff. I don't understand. On Sunday, I decided to meet her at a soccer field and she came. In there she told me, and I quote, 'I need you, Pat Peoples.' And then kissed my neck as she cried. And yes I told her I needed her too, but I didn't realise how true that was until later on. But you know what happened in between? We were at my house when I casually mentioned that she could stay over because there was a fucking snowstorm outside, and then she suddenly says she needs to go, so I walk her home and on my way back it hits me that I need Tiffany. So we retake our running routine and on Wednesday when we're at the park both sitting on a bench, she hugs me tightly and I think, 'hey this feels great you know? I want to stay like this for at least one hour.' But you know what she does next? She stands up and runs back to her house at full speed. And I haven't seen her since. So how do explain all that, huh? The way I see it is that she's got some serious problems and maybe she just wants to play around with me, because one minute she's all sweet and loving and the next she treats me like I'm a fucking stranger. I mean is that even normal?" I stop talking and refill my lungs with the oxygen that used talking too fast to Cliff. He looks at me thoughtfully for at least some good five minutes before finally saying something.

"Have you tried talking with her about this?" He asks.

"Talking to her? Hello! She's the one that won't even answer her door! How do you expect me to talk with her about anything if she doesn't even let me see her? Do you want me to shout it out from one side of the door?" I am annoyed with Cliff because I thought he would understand why I haven't done anything so far about Tiffany's behaviour.

"You have to be persistent. Maybe after the fiftieth time that you knock on her door she will actually open and then you can talk with her."

"What?" I ask, confused. The idea looks crazy and impossible. Not the average thing a therapist would say to their mind-fucked patients.

"Okay so let's say she opens the door. What am I going to talk with her about?"

"Well, maybe there is something she'd like you to know." I stare blankly at Cliff.

Something she wants me to know? What is this rubbish and why is Cliff saying it like he already knows what it is? I don't like it. I don't like it at all. My breathing gets heavier and my chest starts to increase and decrease very rapidly. I can feel myself about to snap but I don't want that to happen because it has been so long since I last lost it so instead I close my eyes and silently count to ten like I used to do before when someone mentioned Kenny G. When I don't feel the need to explode any more I open my eyes and face my therapist.

"I don't understand what you mean, Cliff." I tell him.

"Talk to her, Pat." He says, before he signals to the clock and makes me realise our time together is up.

The next time I wake up I remain in my bed for another good two hours before ultimately getting up. It's Saturday. Normally I would go down to the living room to watch some football but now the season it's over and I don't feel like watching any other sport so I decide to do some weight lifting instead. I go down to the basement ignoring the questioning calls of Mom and start my old routine with the Stomach Master 6000. It is eight o'clock in the morning, past my running time with Tiffany, but given the behaviour she's shown during these last few days I don't feel any worse by not running so early. Now don't get me wrong, I am still going to run because I don't want to regain the weight I lost during apart time, especially since Mom has been cooking this delicious crabby snacks on an almost daily basis –which, by the way, leads me to think she is happy for some reason— but perhaps I will run later on or maybe even in the evening right before dinner so that I can have some relaxing time in the meantime.

Once I finish trying out all the exercise equipment I do some push ups until my back rebels with that stabbing feeling and my arms feel full of burns and about to give in. I think this will be enough for today if we include the five miles that I will run later on. I sit up on the floor and stare blankly at my weight bench. Something is not right. Suddenly the image of Tiffany in her running clothes pops into my mind and I cannot shake it off. As much as I try to erase it she is still there, with her pink running shoes and her blue t-shirt, waiting for me to come out and run with her. And then it gets creepier as my therapist's voice echoes in my head and starts to fill my thoughts with the words he said on Friday until I cannot longer think about anything else. "Talk to her, Pat." The voice says. "There is something she'd like you to know. Talk to her. You have to be persistent. She will open the door. Talk to her. There is something she'd like you to know."

At last I cannot stand it any more get up and go out of the basement straight outside. Unlike in my vision of Tiffany, she is not in front of my house waiting for me to come and run with her. I am confused and annoyed with myself and with Cliff for saying such obscure words but I know I must do something so I decide to run all the way to Tiffany's house. At first I think I am being stupid by coming here because clearly there is no one inside, but then I see the almost invisible light coming from the second floor and that's when I start hitting my hands against the door.

"Tiffany!" I shout. "Tiffany I know you're in there, please come outside or let me in." Nothing happens.

"Tiffany, please, I need to talk with you, please open the door." Again, nothing. I hear some movement inside, someone is clearly inside and listening to what I'm saying. And that's when I lose it.

"What the fuck is your problem?!" I say as I take a trash can in my hands and throw it against the wall, spilling all its content around."First you tell me you need me and now you're avoiding me like I'm some kind of fucking stranger. You don't answer my calls or my knocks on your door and don't even come outside or let me see you in any way. I mean what the fuck is all this about?! If you were just planning on playing with me you should have told me earlier and save me the many hours I've spent worrying about you!"I kick the trash can one more time before letting out an angry shout of frustration and then turning away from the door. I start to make my way back home when I hear the door open and then Tiffany shouts.

"Hey!" I turn and face her.

"Have you thought about how maybe I'm just really scared to lose you?"

I'm too shocked to speak.

"Have you thought about how I'm just too scared to wake up and find you're fucking gone like Tommy was, or that I'm afraid that I will look at you and your eyes will be on some other woman's body instead of on mine? Have you thought about how that makes me feel, Pat? Huh?"

Words fail me.

"So yeah," she goes on. "Maybe I'm being a bitch because I want to make sure that you won't fuck me over like other men did when my husband died; or because I want to be ready when that happens." She finishes talking and then we are both staring at each other.

Conflicting emotions pierce through me as I think for the right words to say, but none come. At last I decide to let my actions speak for themselves and walk to Tiffany. When I am close enough, I take her hands in mine like I did a week ago in my basement, lean in and press my right cheek against the left side of her face. I can feel the rate of her breathing increasing. Finally, I whisper into her left ear "I will never fuck you over, Tiffany" before I let go of her, turn away and make my way back home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note: Dear Readers: I apologize for your long wait for this chapter. Now that my holidays are over I have tons of work to do, and barely have any time to write. I know it sounds like a lame excuse but I do hope you can forgive me.**

**This is the longest chapter I have posted to date, so at least I hope in this way I can make up for all the waiting time you've had to endure. Before you read I'd like you to know that 1- I do not know what Tiffany's last name in the book is, so I have kept her movie one. I don't like using it so if anyone knows please tell me as soon as you can! 2- Please remember I am not English and neither is my first language. I live in the UK (tea over coffee) but it's not the US so all the geography and customs I have written here are off the top of my head, don't pay much attention to them. **

**Anyway I will not hold you for longer, thank you so much for all the reviews (they keep me going) and… enjoy reading!**

* * *

I AM ALLOWED  
TO ACT CRAZY.

_February, 14, 2007._

This time when I wake up I don't waste any time and quickly change into my exercise clothes, go down to the basement and do working out. After two hours I stop and look at the clock. It's eight thirty am. I realize I am late for my running routine so I quickly go upstairs, prepare myself and eat some pancakes. Strangely no one is up yet; Mom is usually up at six to give me my medication. Since she is not down here and I don't want to wake my parents up –because that would also mean facing my dad— I decide to take my meds on my own. I pick them all and put them on the kitchen table, and then I am thinking about how I have only ever known them for their colour, names never made sense; and I wonder what each and every one of them would do to me if I took them separately or I took a different combination. The little pills fascinate me at the same time as they exasperate me. I cannot wait till the day when I finally have to stop taking them, mostly because it is a pain having to remember to take them. Also because if I wasn't on medication I would be able to drive and maybe even get a new job, which I wouldn't mind doing. I take all of them at the same time and then wish I hadn't because I have a very hard time swallowing.

When I am done I walk to the living room and stare at the new television set. This set has been with us for longer than three months yet I am still not used to it. I think about watching something before going running now that the TV is free, when suddenly I hear movement coming from upstairs. There is a lot of banging and then I hear Mom groan like she always does whenever she tries some sort of food that she likes, the difference being that now I am pretty sure there is no food upstairs. Okay so my parents are having sex right now. I take my jacket, put it on and exit the house as fast as someone who's about to be murdered.

Tiffany is nowhere to be seen, but to be honest I didn't expect to see her waiting for me so I am not distressed about it, however some knife-like feeling on my chest makes me think I kind of wish she had. After what happened yesterday I haven't seen or spoken to her. I run for about ten minutes until I settle on paying a visit to Tiffany. Her house has exactly the same look it did yesterday so I think Tiffany will be inside just like the last time. I come closer to the entrance and this time knock politely on the door. Nobody answers. I think about knocking again but decide to wait a bit longer, and in the meantime I stand quietly in front her house door, waiting for something to happen. But nothing does. I look up; I cannot see any lights coming from the second floor. I hold my breath; I cannot hear anything coming from inside either. Strange. Usually when I come around like this and Tiffany does not answer the door I stop to listen for sounds that may indicate she's inside refusing to open the door, and I generally find them quite easily. These are usually footsteps echoing on the hard wooden floor of her dance space or the opening and closing of doors and chest drawers. But now I cannot hear anything. I shrug. If she wants to keep hidden from me it is up to her, her choice, and I will not pursue her anymore. I turn and continue to keep on running.

I go past the high school , down Collings Avenue, make a left twice and then I'm in Oaklyn. I continue running until I pass the Black Horse Pike, Kendell Boulevard and Oaklyn Public School, but then my feet stop and I stand frozen.

It's not right, something's not right.

I'm alert. I look up at the sky, there are no clouds, and that is not good. I spin around and start running in the opposite direction. No clouds with no electricity is not a good omen, I don't like it; everything seems gloomy, cheerless, distressing. I continue jogging and then I am back at Knight's park, as if my feet had brought me here on purpose. I turn my jog into a rhythmic walk and make my way into the park. I feel watched, even though I know I am not. I look behind me, there is no one there. I am alone, in exactly the same spot I was with Tiffany four days ago. It seems like yesterday, it feels like it was only yesterday when I held Tiffany in my arms and she clung onto me as one would hang onto dear life. I miss her.

"Why are you doing this to me, Tiffany?" I say out loud. I don't care who hears me, I don't care who sees me.

"Why are you doing this?!" I repeat, hands on my head, my voice rising. I was in a mental hospital for four years, I am allowed to do this, I am allowed to act crazy, I am allowed to miss the one and only person who I've come to realize is capable of maintaining my sanity. Tiffany. I am allowed to miss her. At last I cannot stand it anymore, I look at my clock and see it's almost half past ten. It is still early but I decide to return home because I don't like being in the park, alone, without Tiffany.

Once inside I cautiously check for noises before I announce that I am home, like I usually do on Sundays. Maybe Mom and Dad are still having sex, me and Nikki used to have long sessions of love making ourselves; maybe I should continue running. But just as I think of going outside to run for another thirty minutes my mother enters the front room, sees me and is quickly hugging me and asking how my running was. I tell her it was not nice and she asks why.

"Because Tiffany was not running today either." I tell her. She looks at me, concerned.

"Are you sure? Maybe she just went running across a different area…" She says.

"Mom, I went to her house and it was empty. Lifeless. I know that because before I left I stopped to listen for sounds and couldn't hear any. And she always runs by the neighborhood." I tell her. As much as I try to conceal it my voice stills sounds worried.

"Well, maybe.."

"Mom, she always runs by the neighborhood." I am losing patience.

"It's okay Pat, just give her time. Perhaps she went out—"

"Where?" I interrupt her. She sounds like she already knows where Tiffany is gone, and I don't like it because I miss Tiffany and I want to know where she is and Mom is not telling me and it irritates me.

"I don't know, Pat, just somewhere…"

"Mom," I cut her off and take her shoulders in my hands. "Where is Tiffany?" I say as I shake her. My voice is cutting steel.

"I don't know Pat…" she says, but I don't believe her.

"In the last letter she gave me she said you were her girlfriend. Tell me where she is Mom, I need to know. Don't hide it from me Mom, you can't hide everything from me, you know you can't!" I am shouting at the last sentence.

I want to beat up Mom for not telling me where the only girl I have learnt to care about is. But I don't do that. I remember the last time I unintentionally hit my mother, I regretted it so much afterwards it was enough to make me want to kill myself. I must stay focused, Tiffany would not approve of this, as much as she would understand it. I take a deep, deep breath and stare directly into my mother's anxious eyes. I decide to calm myself down this way because in the future I don't want to have to close my eyes every time something bothers me. I must learn.

After some seconds I am myself again. Mom finally dares to speak once more.

"We haven't spoken properly since last Sunday, Pat. I don't know where she is or where she's gone. I was just merely suggesting that maybe she ran around a different area, that's all, Pat. Please, I don't want you to worry yourself."

I say nothing.

"Please, Pat…" Mom pleads, but I intervene.

"Okay." I say simply. I let go of her and hastily make my way upstairs, into my bedroom. I have no energy to deal with anything else.

I think about letters as I lay on my bed, facing the roof. All those letters that I sent to Tiffany thinking she would pass onto Nikki. All the weeks I spent, thrilled and delusional, thinking that Nikki would come back to me, thinking she had forgiven me and would love me again no matter what because she had been accepting and writing all those letters.

I don't care about any of that any longer.

I'm not mad at Tiffany anymore.

I never was mad with her.

I was an idiot.

And now she hates me, I think. I begin to remember every reply I ever got from Tiffany in those letters where she pretended to be Nikki. No matter how much it molested me that she faked being Nikki, she still did a pretty good job at it. I believed every single one of them, even the one where she reproached me for sending two hundred photocopied pages of my diary—

My diary.

It's still here, somewhere hidden inside my bedroom, inside this very room. I stand up, restless. I need to find that diary for reasons that are foreign even to me. I scramble through my things until I find the lifeless object that served as my solace and relief for many months. I open it and start to read.

"Dear Nikki… I miss you so much…"

"Dear Nikki… miss all the freckles of your face, when apart time is over I will give you a kiss for every single one of them…"

"Nikki, I have found out apart time has gone on for longer than I thought…"

"…cannot wait t.o kiss your delicate lips again…"

"… I am practicing being kind rather than right…"

"… I love you so much…"

"Dear dolly.."

"Dearest Nikki.."

"Nikki…"

"Nikki…"

"Nikki…"

Nonsense. I close the diary and throw it on the floor. All that lifeless object contains is a bunch of nonsense and irrational sentences obviously written from a very mentally ill man. I am not that man anymore. It is very hard for me to believe that I actually wrote that at some point of my life, as none of the emotions I describe in those pages have remained with me.

I don't love Nikki.

I was right to look for and read the diary: old movie is definitely over. There is no going back, no need to look back either. I retake the diary in my hands and tear it in half. I don't want to see this rubbish ever again.

I go down to the kitchen and toss the diary into the bin. When I turn, Mom is looking at me, with this look on her face that shows how insecure about talking to me she is.

"Will you join me for lunch, Pat?" she asks timidly. I accept and we both have a quiet meal. Dad does not join us, however. I think he must be in his study because the living room is empty and he is usually in the living room on a Sunday. It doesn't bother me, though. I have bigger matters to worry about. When I am done I stand up and kiss Mom a quick goodbye before I go outside again.

I need to find Tiffany.

I try to walk steadily as I make my way to her house, but I cannot extinguish the butterflies that form on the pit of my stomach and the worried thoughts that are constantly flashing through my mind as I take one step after another towards her household. Please be there, I beg.

But she is not there.

Just as this morning, the house is lifeless. _Where are you, Tiffany_. I look around, maybe she is watching me from a distance; maybe she is watching me from inside her parent's house. There is no one to be seen around however I don't abandon my hope and opt for knocking on Tiffany's parent's front door. If she's not inside perhaps they can tell me where she has gone so that I can go and look for her because I am worried about her and I want to see her again and I don't want her to hate me. I knock three times before someone finally answers.

"Who is it and what do you want?" says a voice from behind the door.

"Is Tiffany there?" I ask. The door opens, ajar. A pair of eyes then stare at me, doubtfully.

"Pat?" The voice says.

"Yes. Is Tiffany there?" I repeat.

The door opens a little bit more, revealing the feminine figure of Tiffany's mother.

"She's not in here. What do you want with her, Pat?" She asks me.

"I want to find her because I need to speak to her" I say. Suddenly a male figure is standing behind his wife. Tiffany's father.

"Hey you selfish bastard, what do you want with my daqughter? Don't you think she's been hurt enough already?"

I am paralyzed.

"Are you here to shout at her a little bit more? Wasn't yesterday enough?" He goes on.

I stare back at them, my face blank. The words Tiffany's dad is saying should drive me mad, but instead they make me feel guilty. I feel bad, I feel ashamed, I feel awful. And I can't help it.

"I just want to know where she is, I won't shout at her, I promise." I say in my defense. He rolls his eyes and then disappears.

Tiffany's Mom remains stuck in her place. And then she says, "We don't know where she is. She is old enough to make her own decisions anyway. You're best off just going home and coming back tomorrow. I'm sure she'll be here by then." She tells me. She tries to hide it but I recognize the worry in her voice. And I believe her; I believe what she is telling me, because any mother that speaks with worry is a mother telling the truth. I thank her and turn away. I start to get frustrated because I can't get hold of Tiffany, when suddenly I remember that there is a chance she might be at her sister's house. So I turn and initiate my run towards their place.

When I get there I waste no time and knock on the door. My best friend Ronnie opens.

"Pat! What's up, man?" He asks me.

"Hi Ronnie," I say. "I was wondering if you could tell me where Tiffany is."

"Tiffany?" He asks, his face darkens.

"Yes. Do you know where she is?" I insist.

"No man, I don't." His voice becomes hard. I Know Ronnie's still mad at Tiffany for writing those letters to me, and I don't like it, so I just stare at him with a locked jaw. I want him to know I am being serious. After a brief moment he asks "Have you tried her house?"

"There is nobody in there." I say. "I've just been there and even talked with her parents. They say they don't know. I was also up there this morning but she wasn't home back then either."

"I don't know where she is, I'm sorry Pat. But say, what do you need her for? I thought you two had already made up."

"I just want to talk to her." I explain.

"Well, we—"

"We invited Tiffany to dinner a couple of days ago," Veronica cuts him, materializing from behind his back.

"She said she would do her best to try to make it but called me yesterday and said there was something she had to do today, someplace she had to go. We haven't heard from her since." I am a little surprised at what she is saying because I thought Tiffany would be here.

"Do you know where she's gone?" I ask, anxiously.

"I don't know. When I asked her she refused to tell, and when I asked how she was going to get there she said she would take the train, that's all I know."

Ronnie and Veronica look at me with inquiring faces, but I don't tell them why I want to find or talk with Tiffany. After some brief seconds Veronica makes a comment on how she must go back to attend little Emily and then leaves.

"You OK, pal?" Ronnie asks me. He must sense my worry.

"Yeah, don't worry about it." I say, and then walk away.

I walk up and down the main road so many times I end up losing count. Tiffany's taken the train; I don't know why, I don't know where, I don't know what for. It kills me. I just want to talk to her, that's all. But she's not here, she's not with me, and I miss her and I want her so bad. Even if Dad doesn't approve of her and Ronnie thinks she's a bad influence and Jake has threatened to kill her.  
Jake.  
My brother who supports me in everything and who bought my season tickets for the football that I obviously wanted to watch.  
My brother threatened to kill the only woman I care about. Of course I had already talked with him about this and he agreed to leave Tiffany alone, but I don't think he actually got the message I was trying to put across because when I warned him I didn't know I needed Tiffany.  
My brother who maybe, just maybe is involved in all of this.  
Maybe he called Tiffany and told her to get a train and meet him some place to talk with her, probably about me.  
Maybe my brother is with Tiffany right now.

I stop walking.

I need answers. I know I sound crazy, but I am allowed to act crazy, especially when it concerns matters such as Tiffany. I run back to my house and then ask Mom for money for the train. When she asks why I throw some evasive answers and then exit the house. I can hear her voice shouting behind me as I run down the road, but I don't look back. I need to get to Jake as soon as I can. I hope on a train to Philadelphia and then walk down Market Street and Second Street until I find the high-rise building in which Jake lives. I still remember his exact address. When I enter, the doorman asks my name and who I am visiting. I give him the details he wants but I am a little annoyed with him because he does not remember me from the last time I came. Next, I get on the elevator where the man with the monkey costume is waiting for me and he takes me to the tenth floor after I mention my brother's name. The blue hallway and thick red carpet open themselves up to me as I look for Jake's door number. 1021. I immediately start banging the door until my brother answers.

"Pat?" he says after he opens the door.

"I need to talk to you" I say. He lets me in and then we are both sitting in his leather couch.

"So, what do you need to talk with me about?" He asks. I look around, no sign of Tiffany… or Caitlin.

"Where is your wife?" I ask. I feel weird referring to Caitlin as my brother's wife.

"She's up in New York doing some recordings. What is it, Pat?" He repeats.

"Where is Tiffany?" I say, my face harsh. Unforgiving. He's taken aback for a moment.

"Tiffany? What? I-I don't know-why-why would I know where that lying bitch is?" He raises his voice. And I lose it. I grab his shoulders and smash him against the couch.

"Listen Jake, I need Tiffany, do you understand? I. _Need_. Her." I emphasize the word 'need' as I want him to understand this utmost necessity.

"She's not a bitch and she already apologized for lying. So stop it, stop it!" I am shouting. "And you know what? I have already forgiven her, and so has Mom and so have Ronnie and Veronica. So I think you should follow and forgive her once and for all already. I know we talked about this last time but this time I'm serious, Jake, she's the reason I am here, she's the reason I'm sane. I need her." I finish telling him, my voice barely more than a whisper.

And then I let go of him, put my hands on my face and start to cry. I cry with loud sobs as Jake pats my back and tells me to calm down. I cry because too many things are happening all at the same time and I cannot keep up with them. I cry because a week ago I was a totally different man but now Tiffany has completely changed me and I can no longer recognize myself. I cry because I want Tiffany like a kid wants a lolly and I want to hold her and to kiss her and tell her that she was right: I just needed to find closure to start living my own life, and that thanks to her I have found it and my own life has no meaning without her in it. After some time I stop crying and look up at Jake. His face has changed; now the features have softened, transforming his face into pure apprehensiveness. I am much more relaxed now, and Jake can see that too, but what I cannot hide and Jake has already noticed are the features of my face which indicate worry all over the place. My brother hesitates a bit before speaking to me but finally manages to get the words out of him.

"I'm sorry, Pat." He says, and I can hear a tiny quiver in his voice which only happens when someone is telling the utter truth. I have heard this quiver before on Tiffany and that's how I recognize it in Jake, but it has also reminded me of her and the fact that I am sitting in front of my younger brother crying my heart out because of her momentarily absence.

"I didn't I never—" He tries to go on but has a hard time finding the right words. "I never knew you needed her this bad." He ultimately says.

After some 'don't worry's' and some 'it's okay's' he manages to calm me down and comfort me. And now that we are both thinking straight Jake asks me where I think Tiffany has gone.

"I don't know," I reply. "Her sister Veronica told me something about how she was going to get a train to go someplace. But I don't know what place and I can't think of any either." I pause, and think.  
Where would Tiffany be right now? I cannot imagine her spending a whole day in a clothes store looking for the best deal of a new Versace dress, so I strongly doubt she has gone out shopping. She literally lives with her parents so she hasn't gone to visit them either because I was just there and she wasn't with them. Same thing happens with her sister. There is no place I can come up with and it upsets me. Before I can start crying again Jake says "If she got on a train that must mean she is going far and maybe will not return until much later. Cheer up, Pat. I know how it feels to need someone because that's exactly how I felt when I first met Caitlin, but there is no need to stress yourself about this because I tell you: she will come back soon."

My brother definitely has a point, but he is seeing things from a 34-year-old-happily-married-man, not from a 35-year-old-fucked-up-desperate-man. I remember I am the one on irritating medication, the one who spent four years in a mental hospital and the only one of us allowed to act crazy; and I make no excuses and no apologies about my behavior.

After some more minutes at his place I decide to head home again. There is nothing else to do here.

Back at home things have not improved either. Mom says she has tried calling Tiffany's cellphone but apparently it is shut down so she has not been able to contact her. Veronica and Ronnie called to notify the same problem and Tiffany's parents are starting to get worried about her as well. I learn this is about the first time that Tiffany leaves so early in the morning and spends so much time outside without letting anybody know. Normal families wouldn't worry about their fully grown daughter disappearing for days, but Tiffany is like me so of course they're going to worry. However now that I know this a very unpleasant feeling has settled itself in the bottom of my stomach, liver, pancreas, lungs, mouth, etc. I can hear Dad in the living room watching TV so I go directly upstairs and lay on my bed for the time being.

I close my eyes and try to get some sleep even though I have never taken a nap in my life, but this so-not-nice feeling is making me feel sick and I can feel the need to throw up so I remain unmoved on my bed, trying to hold my lunch in. When I open my eyes the sky's crystal blue has transformed into marine blue. I close my eyes again. I open them and the sky has turned purple and pink with bits of dark blue here and there. I close my eyes. When I open them for the final time darkness swallows me and I worry I might have woken up in the middle of the night. I sit up, look at the clock and see it's almost ten pm. I have missed dinner but to be honest I am still sick so I don't feel bad at all for not joining Mom at the table.

Then the thought of a missing Tiffany hits me and I stand up and run back downstairs.

"Mom! Have there been any news about Tiffany yet?" I ask at the thin air. Then Mom comes up to me, her face sheet white, not one pint of pink on her usually rosy cheeks.

"No… nothing." She says. Her tone is so extremely low I actually have to listen hard to hear what she is saying. I stare at her but she looks down at the floor, like she's hiding something.

And then I hear the house phone ring. Once. I am looking at Mom, none of us moving. Twice. I am running to get it. Three times.

"Hello?" I ask, breathless.

"Pat," the voice says. "It's Jake." I remain silent waiting for his next words, but his next words don't come and I worry.

"What is it?" I ask with a barely audible tone.

"It's about Tiffany…" He stops for a few seconds, but then he's rushing. "You told me she got the train today. Well I didn't want to believe it when I saw it but it's on the CNN news, everybody's talking about it, there are sirens everywhere and I don't know how to tell you this but you probably… oh Pat I'm so sorry I just, Pat listen I'm sure she was not there, she was not there, don't worry Pat, she was not there…"

At first I don't understand what my brother keeps on telling me, I can only recognize a few words here and there, like 'terrorism' and 'deaths', but after a while it becomes obvious what he is trying to say, and although my heart does not want to register it, my brain and reason do. There has been a terrorist strike on one of the trains coming back from Delaware to Philadelphia. There have been 47 deaths. This happened only a few hours ago. Tiffany is still not back at home. No one has been able to reach her. Her aunt lives not far from Delaware. Tiffany probably went to visit her, and took that train to come back. Tiffany is probably dead.

The phone drops from my hand, leaving my too agitated brother on the line. My first thought is 'this isn't happening'. I refuse to believe anything of what Jake tells me, he is lying. He is just playing a sick joke on me for some reason. I quickly walk to the living room, hoping to clarify my doubts with the CNN news. Surely nothing about terrorist attacks is being reported. But when I enter the living room I stand frozen. The images show the body of a woman in a stretcher being transported into the ambulance, but the paramedics are just wasting their time, because everybody knows she's dead. My eyes wander to the bottom left of the screen, where there is usually a short summary of the news being reported above, but just as my rational brain expected I cannot find any kind of comfort in there.

"… ESTIMATED 47 DEATHS IN BOMBINGS AT DELAWARE TRAIN…." I read. And then something breaks inside me. I can literally feel my heart dropping from where it should be and going down, down to the bottom of my stomach, down to the bottom of my guts, down until it is no longer inside my body. I don't know what I do next, if break down and cry or continuously shout at the TV; everything happens so fast I cannot register anything. And then the room is spinning and somehow I am banging my head against the wall and sobbing at the top of my lungs as the word "Tiffany" escapes my mouth after each whimper and bang on the wall.

"Tiffany—Tiffany—Tiffany—Tiffany—Where—Are—You—Tif fany—Tiffany—Tiffany" I cry.

I don't think I notice Dad's strong arms around me until I am looking directly into his eyes. For a moment I fear he might hit me, but his face shows worry instead of annoyance. For the first time in years, probably, my father is worried about me. I try to stop crying as I look at Dad's face, but instead of stopping, I only manage to cry even more and even louder on my father's shoulder. He simply holds me. He does not hug me back, he does not pat my back, he does not say comforting words like my brother did earlier today. But despite this lack of expression, I feel accepted into my father's world again. And despite the fact that he doesn't say anything at all, I find comfort on his still embrace.

Today feels like a dream.

Maybe I am hallucinating.

After a while, I pull away from Dad before it becomes too awkward for both of us, and then I manage to reduce my sobs to silent tears. Some part of my brain wants to believe all of this is one big hallucination, that none of this is actually happening and that I am hallucinating because of the pills I took this morning. Maybe I did take the wrong combination after all. But the other, larger and stronger part of my brain knows this is the real world, not some kind of dream, that the bombings have actually happened and that there is a strong chance that Tiffany is dead.

I don't know when it happens, but all of a sudden we are getting many phone calls and all the phones in the house are ringing incessantly and Mom is everywhere speaking with everyone on the line. Veronica and Ronnie have also seen the news and they're calling for an update on things –apparently they called earlier as well—they want to know if any of us has been able to contact Tiffany, but my mother has no good news to give to them. Then Tiffany's parents are calling and they want to know the same thing. Again bad news have to be broken and more and more silent tears continue to fall from my eyes. I should have told her earlier. I should have told her earlier. I should have told her ealier. That is all I can think about: I should have told her earlier.

And then, just as I am about to start sobbing again, the doorbell rings. I freeze for a second, and then break into a run as I go across the living room and the front room. When I reach the entrance I waste no time and open the door.

And then I see her.

Tiffany.

She's standing outside the house door, wearing a bun which allows two loose strands of her delicate black hair to stand on either side of her face, wearing too much make-up on but the right amount of it for her eyes to exhibit their marvelous deep green color and wearing a lovely red necklace which reflects the tint of her blood red lips.

Tiffany.

She's alive.

She's okay.

She's here.

My body reacts before my mind does, fulfilling the desire it had so long craved for.

Involuntarily I take two steps towards her and my firm lips slant over hers as they claim and own them. Her lips rapidly spread and then our mouths collide with such force I am left breathless. Her hands clamp around my neck as my fingers dig deep into her hair undoing her already disheveled bun. The sensation inside me grows warmer, hotter, spreading all the way through my body as our mouths and bodies move rhythmically. My lips crave hers. My hands own her body, her soul, her very self.

Passion.

So this is how it feels like.

I had never experienced this kind of feeling before, not even with Nikki, and now all I can think about is Tiffany. How much I've missed her, how much I want her, how much I need her.

When I pull away Tiffany's eyes meet my gaze with a questioning look. I know she wants to go on, I want to go on, but right now I cannot allow her to keep on kissing me, as much as I like it, because right now I remember that I was very close to loosing her and I remember that there is something I must say to her before she disappears again.

So I carefully clutch her face in my hands, look straight into her eyes and say,

"I love you, Tiffany Maxwell. I love you so fucking much."

And stare at her long enough to see her eyes dampen and her lips form an unmissable grin before she leans on and her lips are all over mine again.


End file.
